World Could Be Burning
by AndI'dRatherDream
Summary: Based on the two characters in the Catching Fire movie to give the three finger salute.


**Disclaimer: ****I do not own The Hunger Games or any of the characters/places mentioned****. **Also, shout out to Paige for the general idea ily.

* * *

They both knew what raising their arms in the air meant, how those three fingers meant a death sentence with no possible chance of mercy. They had heard mothers forbid their children from the act, no matter their intent, fear deep in their chests. While much of their district ached for change, itching to be free, there was always the fear. Everyone had lost someone they loved and everyone didn't want to lose someone else. The thing was that people had to be lost in order to make it all stop. They both knew that.

Neither asked if the other had changed their mind just before the victors came for the tour. It would only bring up doubts in themselves, doubts that would do no good. It seemed surreal to see the victors come through the large double doors onto the stage, the girl especially. They didn't believe her love story in the district, though no one dare say so public.

The pair reminded the young woman of herself and her fiancé in a way, though she knew little about them. The games were just appearances, after all. Still, the story of how the baker's boy watched the girl in school made her think of herself at that age, young and innocent and hoping that a boy would notice her. Then one day he did. Out of everything she regretted this least.

She gripped the hand of her fiancé and only love for a majority of the speech, secretly terrified to let go. As it neared the end, however, she knew it was time. As the female victor droned on in a monotone voice about how in control the Capitol was, in a respectful manner, of course, she knew this was the time. Her fiancé looked down at her when her hand dropped, though she didn't return his gaze. Instead she picked a spot in the distance to stare into as she raised her lead filled arm, knowing he would follow her moves no matter what she did.

She didn't notice much of what was happening around her. When the peacekeepers grabbed her she put up no fight. She didn't cry, though everything in her told her to. No, they wanted her to struggle, to silently say she regretted her actions. She didn't. There was one thing, though, that the girl did notice as she was being pulled away. It was the hesitance in the victor and the panic in her eyes. No doubt after the riot in District Eleven that was taken off the air seconds too late she was under strict orders not to stop speaking. There wouldn't be a riot in her district, though. Not yet. For now they would stand alone.

It was just about the nicest place you could hold a prisoner, a locked room in the city hall. She was fairly sure this was where they kept the tributes after the reaping. The pair sat on the velvet couch together, her head resting on his lap. He ran a hand through her hair, neither saying a word. They instead thought about how they got there. Neither of them were very rebellious people, though they were both rather independent. It didn't take long for them to find they understood each well. They were engaged three years previously, her being eighteen at the time and him a year older. They planned to marry eventually, though it would have made little difference with them living together already.

No, they weren't troublesome people. They were angry people, however; hungry, angry, oppressed people. They were smart people who knew there needed to be change and no one was going to step up for them. Whether people remembered them in the end or not, they at least would have done something. To them it was better than doing nothing.

Her hand instinctively moved down to her abdomen, lingering for a moment. There was hardly a bump, nearly nonexistent at this point. It was there, though. She had known for a while now, though she hadn't told anyone, her fiancé especially. No doubt he would change his mind about it all if he had known what was at stake. It would have done no good to have to convince him that none of it would be worth it if things stayed the way they were. She wouldn't tell him now or ever. It would be cruel to do that, so she left it with a linger and a silent apology.

It was hours later when the peacekeepers came to retrieve the pair to take them to the square, no doubt after the train had left with the cameras. Neither put up much fight. That would only make it worse, no doubt. In the end it was the familiarities of the surroundings that made her want to vomit. How many times had she been there, walked through the area to get to the small school or to spend the little money she had on necessities in the shops. So much had happened there it seemed an appropriate place to die, really.

There was a bit of a crowd, most likely forced to be there. She didn't look to recognize any of them. She was sure she would. She did notice in the window of a shop a small girl with curly red hair. She couldn't place a name for her, though she had seen her wondering around the streets in the middle of the day. She made eye contact with her, and while anyone else would have turned away, the child continued to stare with curious brown eyes. Moments later an older girl around twelve, presumably her sister, picked up the girl and carried her off, only glancing up for a moment. This was not something for a child to see.

They shot her fiancé first, standing tall where the victors had earlier stood. She didn't cry, she had gotten this far without. She only stood with her arms limp and a sick feeling in her stomach and a lack of oxygen going to her head and-.

Then it was over.

Panem today. Panem tomorrow. Panem forever.


End file.
